Knaves by Compulsion
by Scriptique
Summary: Please R&R! 1xR, 2xH, 3x?, 4xD, 5xS. Rumours of mobile suit production is circulating, even though it was already made illegal. What would the pilots do to counteract this threat now that the Gundams have been destroyed? Trowa's girl is a secret for now
1. Chapter 1

I've been itching to write this, and I've finally got around to doing it. There's also a plot already written out for this, but I've made it so that it's pretty flexible for requests. Sadly, there are still numerous endings to this fic. So please let your voices be heard and review!

Also, there _is_ such a thing as the policy I mentioned below. It's actually in use today and originated from the Cold War years. It's called the Peaceful Co-Existence Policy. If you wanna find out more you can google it

Thanks and muchos love,

Scriptique

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**Chapter 1:**

Relena walked out of the podium just as the many journalists stood up and started screaming last minute questions. She grabbed the coffee from her secretary gratefully and massaged her temples with her fingers. She was getting a migraine from the constant flashing of cameras and buzzing of the reporter's voices.

"Excellent press release, as usual Ms Relena!" Her secretary was saying. "But I'm afraid that you don't have time to grumble about it," she added as Relena opened her mouth to protest, "You have a meeting with the Indian Consulate in less than 15 minutes."

Relena groaned, but composed herself nonetheless to her best abilities and walked out of the building, head held high and undetected, into her waiting car outside. The young chauffer opened the door as she slid in. She missed Pagan, her faithful butler and friend for so long. He was more accommodating, more fun. Unlike this new driver of pompous feat who was always walking on eggshells whenever she was around.

"Well, we should get going," her secretary chatted happily. "We don't want to keep them waiting, do we?"

Relena smiled politely. She was making a difference to the world everyday, and everybody respects her for that. But there were times when she found her job a disappointment. There were times when politics was not reflecting her own ideals. But it was her job as Vice-Foreign Minister to represent the organisation whether she approved of their policies or not, as a united front against those wishing to oppose pacifism.

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Heero sat down in front of the TV and sipped a mug of cocoa. He flicked from one channel to another, cursing in his thoughts of the uselessness of Cable TV. He let himself linger for a moment on a channel showing a documentary of the conspiracy theories concerning the war, before changing the channel and settling for the news broadcast.

The reporter was praising Relena for yet another wonderfully made speech concerning the Co-Existence Policy that she had released today.

_How objective_, smirked Heero.

The TV then flashed a fragment of the speech, of Relena reading from a piece of paper. Heero smirked again. Relena reading from her notes and not bothering to remember and elucidating on her points only meant that she was not happy with the policy.

He then allowed himself to look at Relena's features. She was wearing a dark suit. She was also wearing very little make-up, as usual, and her hair was up in a French twist. Her blue eyes flashed intellect at each answer to each reporter's questions.

"The Co-Existence Policy opposes aggression of imperialists, as I had pointed out awhile ago." She answers a journalist, "It also opposes apartheid, and colonialism. It however, supports disarmaments and… national liberation movements." She added. For awhile Heero thought he saw the corners of her mouth twitch in disappointment, and then the scene switched back to the newsroom.

Heero leaned back and closed his eyes, remembering the last time he saw Relena's pretty face closely. She was the prettiest woman he had ever seen, and he probably had never seen such a lovelier Queen. When he was flying over the skies, flying to the Romefeller building she was staying at, he had watched her beautiful face hypnotising his mind even through the TV

_You're smart, Relena._ He thought. _But you'd need to be stronger if you disapprove of the policies that you are being forced to swallow. _

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Quatre sipped his tea, and almost spat it out again. It had gone cold, and it tasted incredibly bitter-sweet. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt (an unhealthy habit, he was sure) and pushed the saucer and teacup away from him. He yawned and opened a drawer from his desk, which was full of storage gadgets and other technological knick knacks. He groped around near the back of the drawer, hoping against hope that there was a new USB yet unopened and momentarily forgotten.

His hand revealed the prize he was looking for wasted no time in ripping the plastic off the case and shoving the shiny piece of technology into the computer. He then started saving the information flashing on his screen. He then turned to a second computer beside it and flicked through the different sections of a database.

He had hacked into the American government servers and retrieved a fair amount of information. Very troubling information, in fact. It might just be a hoax, or a lie that the government had taken seriously. Nonetheless, it was still unusual and troubling.

The government, it seems, had found scraps of information that mobile suits were being produced once again by an unknown manufacturer and source. Naturally, they would keep this a secret. If the public knew of this they would have been divided once again: Those who opposed and those who supported the mobile suits.

Quatre didn't bother reading all the files, but merely scanned its contents as it was saved. He'd read it later, maybe after he had rested. It wasn't uncommon for these rumours to pop up once in a while, only to fizzle out when the mercenary's plan was foiled. Most rumours, after all, have specks of truth in it.

Quatre rested his chin on his left hand and pondered on the amount of rumours circulating in the militaries these days. Rumours of mobile suits making a "come back". If these were true, then the manufacturer needed the resources and money to fund the production. Furthermore, he or she would need the blueprint, and these were all destroyed by the beginning of AC 198.

As he scanned the last file, the server refreshed by itself and returned an error. But not before Quatre saw the most troubling information. He tried gaining access to the server again, opening the program that would help him crack the access codes. He had to make sure that he read it correctly.

For there, on the last report, read:

_Production suspected of being funded by Winner._

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Please review once again!

-Scriptique


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

Duo stopped his massive truck at the stop light. He looked at his side mirror and saw a very annoyed driver tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Duo pushed his sunnies up his nose and grinned. What better sense of accomplishment than to annoy a stranger without even trying?

After several moments the light finally turned green and Duo steered the vehicle carefully around the corner. It was stifling hot that day, and Duo cursed the Environmental Ministry for making it the worst summer to date. _Why did they have to make it so damn hot when they have the power to make it a comfortable summer?_

He took off his hat and fanned himself with it. He turned the volume of the already blaring radio up as he turned from the final roundabout, coasting into a stop in the parking lot of his Scrap-metal shop. He knew that Hilde would shout at him to turn the music off for fear of scaring away the customers.

Hilde was screaming, alright. But instead of screaming at him she was instead shooing a man in a grey pinstripe suit, all the while shouting verbal abuse at the poor guy. Before her anger would turn to him he turned off the engine and jumped off the truck.

"AND DON'T LET ME CATCH YOUR SORRY BUTT HERE AGAIN!"

The pinstriped man cowered. Then he stood straighter at the sight of Duo, obviously trying to retain any last shred of dignity from his bruised ego in front of another male figure. He got in his car and sped off.

Hilde's face was the perfect picture of a storm. She stamped her foot, turned around in her heels and glared at Duo.

"Those… those… AUGH!" She screamed and threw her hands in the air, almost hitting Duo at the process.

Duo caught her hands just in time, and tried to calm her down. "What was that all about? I don't think he stands a chance against you, with his size. Stop bullying the tax man!"

"He wasn't the tax man, and I have every right to bully them while we're on the topic." She growled. "He was one of those representatives from that nut of a company."

"What? Them again?" Duo snorted in disgust. "I don't believe it! If only I have my Deathscythe I could have blasted--"

A company in the metal industry had been buying small-time junk and scrap shops in large amounts recently. Probably trying to make the company big, Duo thought. Over a year they had nearly wiped out privately-owned businesses in the colony.

Over that year they had been trying to persuade Duo and Hilde to sell them their business. The company told them that they would still manage the shop, but the shop would be rightfully own by the company.

And for over a year Duo and Hilde had repeatedly refused them. First politely, then evolving into more violent arguments. The most aggressive by far being the one Duo just witnessed.

"Just don't mind them that much," Duo said. "But of course, keep up the good work at keeping them outta the property." He added when Hilde's eyes flashed anger. Hilde stomped off inside the building that doubled as their apartment and slammed the door.

Duo wiped his forehead and went back to the truck, ready to unload his cargo. While he untied the binds, he couldn't help but wonder what the company wanted from the scraps and metals businesses. There was talk of somebody planning to start building mobile suits again. Heck, come to think of it, this company might even be that very company.

Duo decided to check the company out the next day. Sure, he wasn't a preventer. But it's good to put the fire out while it was still small.

_Or has it already spread?_ Duo wondered suddenly, remembering that the company had been successful in the metals industry for over a year now…

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Please RR once again!

Thanks heaps,

Scriptique


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Wufei looked out of the window of the spacecraft, looking at the Earth. Earth never failed to fascinate him, that is, both the planet and its inhabitants. Earthlings never understood the wonder of the planet, and so they ungratefully destroy it. Some subconsciously, some fully aware that they were doing it. They were taking the planet for granted.

"Mmmhmm… Yeah. Gotcha. Yeah..."

Wufei glanced at Sally as she scrawled swiftly at what Noin was telling her on the phone. And with each "yeah" he saw that her eyebrows were getting closer to each other. He settled his glasses across the bridge of his nose and opened a book. Finally Sally hung up

"What was that about?" He asked.

Sally shook her head. "Noin's report with Zechs." She handed him the note that she was scribbling at. "Remember those rumours about the new mobile suits? They're all facts, after all. Noin and Zechs found proof… they found a factory manufacturing the boosters, and another producing the screens for the cockpit. They've managed to destroy it without making the headlines, but they're afraid that they've been too late."

Wufei glanced at Sally. It was unusual for Zechs and Noin to jump into conclusions, so by saying that they're "too late" only meant that they _were_ already too late. How many mobile suits have been manufactured already in a span of, say, a year? It was, after all, only been less than a year ever since these rumours had started circulating. They were only rumours: Nobody had tipped them off about it.

"They were only rumours," Sally said, voicing his thoughts as she sat down in front of him. "I never thought that we had allowed this fire to spread."

"We can still control the fire," Wufei said. "It hasn't spread that much yet. It couldn't have, not in a span of only a year. They could only have produced a couple dozens of them."

"But it takes only a dozen to give the opponent the upper hand against those who don't have it." Sally clenched her fists at the leather seat. Before Wufei could ask what she meant, the spacecraft, on autopilot, beeped a single, long sound: an alarm which meant that they were approaching their destination in a short while.

"Noin also says that Lady Une wants you Gundam pilots to come to a meeting in Mons, in Belgium." She said as she took the spacecraft out of autopilot. "She'll be waiting for us there, and she'll be briefing us. She'll also tell us what her seniors are doing to prevent this."

Wufei looked out his window to take a glimpse of the blue marble that is Earth. It was the beautiful planet that his colleague, Heero, had chosen to live in. It was also the place where he himself wished to live out his life. "I don't think the other guys would appreciate us disturbing them with such a small thing," he muttered. "Not if it can be dealt with by the Preventers first."

Sally managed a grin. "With something like this? I doubt that the other pilots are turning a deaf ear… I'd betcha anything that they've already heard of it. Besides," she waved her hand, as if trying to shoo negative factors from her head, "do you honestly want to miss out on any information on potential danger if you were in their shoes?"

Wufei glanced back outside his window. _Guess not_.

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Hope this sounded like Wufei… does he really think earth is beautiful?

Please R&R! Next chapter's gonna be Trowa's, and it's gonna be pretty long.

Muchos love,

Scriptique


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

"Bobby!" Trilled Catherine, glaring at the trapeze artist when he wolf-whistled at her. The Circus Master had given her a new tighter and shorter costume. She was delighted at first seeing it, but she had earned stares and whistling while they were practising for the next day's crowd.

"Just wait 'till Trowa comes back," she walked up to Bobby and looked at him straight in the eyes. "He'll beat you up so bad you'll run away crying with your tail between your legs."

Bobby laughed and poked her in the ribs. "If Trowa really cared for his big sister he would have told you not to wear this… cloth."

"I adore this outfit, thank you very much! Its pigs like you who ruin it!"

Trowa listened to them bicker from his corner of the tent. He knew perfectly well that they were flirting with each other. He suspected that the reason why Catherine accepted to wear the revealing outfit was to impress Bobby. If Bobby went overboard, however, he knew Catherine would take care of him herself.

Sure enough, and as if on cue, several knives appeared in Catherine's hands as she threatened Bobby.

It wasn't his turn to take centre stage yet, so Trowa took solace in the shadows of his corner. Nobody cared for the silent clown. Not yet, and only until it was his turn to be ridiculed at. Pride was not something that he valued highly: He had, after all, been a mercenary, a soldier, a traitor… Pride would only pull you down to humbler ground just as gravity would pull you towards land. Pride was not something that should be carried around and treasured…

A sound alien to him came unbidden to his ears. His awareness of his surroundings suddenly became acute. Whispers could be heard much better in the shadows, he knew, as there were fewer distractions for the other senses. Whisperings in the dark often boded evil too…

With the stealth of a wild cat he silently walks to the source of the sound, clutching a knife in his left hand and parting the heavy curtains with his right. He quickly grabbed the person and pinned him to the wall, knife digging into his captive's skin but willing himself not to draw any blood.

"P—please… don--- don't hurt me!" The man whimpered as he looked into Trowa's emotionless eyes. "I've just been sent here, sir! Y—you must be Trowa Barton?"

"What does that name got to do with you?" He answered quietly. "Trowa Barton is long dead. I am not him."

Somebody applauded him from behind: Three quick, successive staccatos of a sound followed by footsteps of equal accents.

"Of course, forgive us, Triton." He stepped again, close enough for Trowa to hear his mutterings but far enough hence Trowa decided to turn and slash him instead. "We simply called you just as your friends here call you. Trowa Barton… hmm… or maybe it's merely a habit calling the silent soldier that. How ironic… the real Trowa Barton was quite the chatterbox, they say. Once again, please, accept our apologies--"

"I don't think you came here to apologize for using a dead man's name." Trowa interrupted, not lessening his iron grip on the whimpering man as he tried to take a glimpse of the mysterious figure behind him.

The man laughed again. "No. You're quite right." Trowa heard him shuffling his feet, as if changing his position to a more comfortable one. "We come here on behalf of Clove to offer you a wonderful job. Please accept it. We're really looking forward to your arrival." A click suddenly sliced through the silence: The click of the safety of a gun being put off, Trowa was sure. "Otherwise, the friends who call you Barton would be in jeopardy…"

The muffled sounds of laughter and music echoed around Trowa. Little did anybody know that his circus family's safety was his life and blood. If they were in any way in danger, and if they were killed, Trowa would never forgive himself. Trowa released the man he had pinned to the wall. He had to think something, and fast… thinking rationally was always hard to grasp during situations like these, he thought. But if that irrational decision meant the safety of his family…

"There's really no need for that." He answered. "I've heard about the Clover Company. That's the company you work for, right? I had actually considered joining you."

"For your colleagues' benefit?"

"No, for my own." Trowa watched the whimpering man scuttle away to safety. "Being a plainclothes Preventer isn't giving me any of the thrills only a battle can provide. I want to take a final, mortifying sight of a battle… with a mobile suit."

He had hoped to catch the man off guard. He wanted to catch a look of surprise in this mysterious man's face as he turned around to catch his first glimpse of him. But it was Trowa who was taken aback.

The man was grinning toothily, showing no sign of shock. He was scarred everywhere, his face pockmarked, his lips cracking dry. He was dressed impeccably as a millionaire, and yet those steel eyes showed a hardness only Trowa knew was reserved only during the heat of a battle. The man extended his hands.

"Richard Finch," he said as he shook hands with Trowa. "Mortifying sight, huh?"

It was a moment before Trowa realised what he was talking about.

"Yes, a final battle would suffice to feed my desire for blood."

_But the blood would only be of yours,_ Trowa though. _If it would make me a spy and a traitor once again, so be it. I'll play the silencer as well. I'll silence your threat once and for all_.

"Well, that settles it!" Finch turned around. "Welcome aboard! You'll find that one of your friends is already in, so I don't think you'd feel too lonely."

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Trowa would be the central figure for the first part of this fic, as we discover more about the Clover Company through him as a spy. That's all I'm gonna reveal for now Hehehehehe!

Well, hope you enjoy it! The subplot for Quatre is coming up next chapter.

Thanks to silvertwighlight and GundamWing Nutcase for reviewing!

Muchos love,

Scriptique


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

Quatre stifled a yawn as he stretched his legs from a bench in a park. He dog-eared a page in his book to mark where he was reading and rubbed his eyes. Many ducks had been waddling in the man-made lake in front of him, dipping themselves once in a while to cool their bodies. It was a wonderful summer's afternoon in the colony L4, and the sun was surrendering tangerine over the whole land.

Of course, none of this compares to the beautiful sunset that the people of Earth take for granted. Quatre was torn between the endless beauties of space or the rugged beauties of Earth. And as he was pondering this, he felt warmth behind him.

"You called me?" Someone said, quietly, lovingly. Quatre stood up just as a woman rounded the edge of the bench and approached him. He hugged her, caressing her soft blonde hair with his fingertips.

When they broke away from each other, Quatre looked deep into her eyes. The girl did the same.

"I'm glad you could come, Dorothy," Quatre finally broke the silence, loving the feel of her name in his tongue. "I really appreciate your company at a time like this."

Dorothy suddenly turned and crossed her arms: Her signature pose. "Stop the formalities, Quatre. It's not like you don't see me everyday."

"But I don't." He wrapped his right arm around her waist as he turned her to face him. "The last time we met was last week."

Dorothy chuckled as they sat down and admired the sunset. "What's been bothering you?" She finally asked after a minute's silence.

Quatre sighed. He squeezed her hand and looked at her with those sad, kind eyes. The steely gaze that he possessed during the war was back, and Dorothy knew that he had grave news.

"My family's been suspected of funding the Basalt Project." He told her of everything he read in the hacked American server. "I don't care if they just accused me, though." He added. "But it's an ambiguous accusation. '_Production suspected of being funded by Winner._' It's like they're accusing my family without any proof."

Dorothy squeezed his hand. "I'm sure that it's just a suspicion, nothing more."

"Suspicions are usually triggered by a grain of truth."

"But suspicions are nothing more than curiosity over a doubt. Listen, Quatre," she placed her hands on his cheek before he could argue further. "I should think that it's nothing more than a suspicion. They might search your family or whatnot, but as long as you know your conscience is clean, then nothing will come out of this suspicion."

But Quatre did not return the smile that Dorothy was already wearing. "There's something more. Trowa's missing."

"Since when?"

"Since several days ago. None of the circus people saw anything, but a pool of blood was there, and none of his stuff was taken. He did not leave a note to his sister either."

"That's unusual," she pondered. While Trowa and Dorothy didn't really get off to a good start, they both started anew and since then became close acquaintances. It was to Trowa whom Dorothy turned to when neither Relena nor Quatre were available. But it was not uncommon for Trowa to be gone for long periods of time without communication. He was, after all, still a Preventer. She expressed this to Quatre. "And besides," She added, "Maybe he was running away from Mr. Winner here just in case you attacked him with a mobile suit."

Quatre managed a weak smile. "Yeah. No wonder your uncle hates me."

Dorothy laughed. They left the bench and started walking. The pigeons fluttered away when they passed by. Nobody looking at them would ever have imagined that the very couple striding casually at the park had fought each other in that infamous war less than 5 years ago.

"Does your uncle suspect that we're going out?"

Dorothy grinned. "Of course not. He still thinks that I'm going out with that idiot boy he set me up with." For a moment her smile faltered. But when Quatre blinked she was once again grinning.

"I can't believe you're two-timing me, and I don't even mind!" Quatre feigned incredulity, "The worst thing is, I _know_ you're two-timing me!"

Dorothy pushed him. "Hey, it's not my fault that all the boys want me. Do you think it's the hair? Maybe it's my charismatic personality…"

"No, it's the eyebrows." Quatre kidded, knowing full well that Dorothy would take offence. She pushed him again, this time harder. Quatre was forced to steady himself by grabbing her hands.

Dorothy cried in delight as they both fell back, Quatre making sure that he cushioned her fall.

"You know that these eyebrows are what make me _irresistible_." She said as she rolled off Quatre and brushed dried leaves off her dress. "I just hope that Marimeia doesn't inherit the Kushrenada curse—" She stopped. She suddenly looked miserable.

"What's wrong?" Quatre immediately knew that her sudden silence had nothing to do with her eyebrows. He craned his neck to look at Dorothy's turned face. He cupped her chin with his fingers and turned her face towards him.

She sighed and opened her eyes. "James wants me to marry him," she mumbled. "He proposed last night, in front of my family."

Quatre was taken aback. "I thought you told him that you didn't want to get serious?"

"Of course I told him I didn't want him! What do you take me for? But he was still keen in muddying the Catalonia name with his no good…"

Quatre was furious. He had told Dorothy numerous times to just tell her family that she was seeing him. But the Catalonia-Kushrenada family did not want her to marry someone who was not of royal blood. Instead, they had to see each other in secret. Yes, maybe he was furious with her family. But he was equally as angry with Dorothy for not making a choice for herself in this matter.

"I'm sorry, Quatre," Dorothy said quietly. "I had no choice but to say yes."

"You had a choice Dorothy, you always do."

"Yes, but put yourself in my position! Have sympathy for goodness sake Quatre! It wasn't like I'd just insensitively say 'NO!' to the boy… not in front of my family! It wasn't really an event I'd like to experience again. Put yourself in my shoes!"

"I don't have to," He said as he stood up and offered her a hand up. "I disinherited myself to _choose_ the path that _I_ wanted, didn't I?"

Dorothy lost her temper. She said "well, who said that my decision wasn't the path that _I_ wanted to choose?" before she could stop herself. She clasped her hand over mouth. Quatre was looking at her in stunned silence. Dorothy scrambled to her feet.

"I…I'm---"

"Forgive me. I think I've wasted your time enough already."

"Please, I was---"

"I have something else to do, Miss Dorothy. Please, excuse me."

"Quatre! Just…"

Quatre turned to look at her. "Have a good engagement and wedding." He said painfully. "I can't stand in the shadows anymore now, can I? Goodbye, Dorothy…" He kissed her palms swiftly before turning away.

Dorothy watched as the one person who understood her walked away. She shivered at an unseen wind, and without thinking, took the ring from her pocket and hurled it at the lake. It skidded three times over the surface before sinking forever in its depths. She covered her face, willing to still the sob that was threatening to come.

_But I love you_.

Each character has a subplot. This is the first one. More will come for Heero/Relena, Duo/Hilde, and Wufei/Sally. I would love to hear your reviews and ideas!

Thanks heaps,

Scriptique


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

Relena suddenly bumped her thighs in the open drawer of her desk. She stamped her foot repeatedly at the woolly carpet, biting her lip and forcing herself not to swear out loud. _Damn, Relena!_ She thought to herself as she massaged her thighs. Her stockings were ripped where the corner had struck, and already the skin underneath was sporting a red spot that she was sure was going to evolve into an ugly bruise.

"Be careful next time, Relena. I don't want you to die, you know. You're too young."

Relena's eyes snapped to the door at the sound of the familiar voice. The tall figure of her brother was standing there while Karen, her blushing secretary stood behind. Karen glanced at Milliardo and flushed even more. Relena smiled to herself: Every girl that her brother passes by blushes with adoration and, probably, love.

"You may leave us, Karen." Relena smiled at her secretary. She watched Karen's crestfallen face take a last, longing look at Milliardo before closing the door.

"Well, brother," Relena threw her arms around him, stripping the formalities that she wore whenever anyone else was present. "When did you arrive?"

"Just a couple of days ago," he said, returning her embrace. Relena led him to the seats in her office. Milliardo visited Relena once in a while, whenever he was in the area. But it had been a long time since they had seen each other. They both sat down and exchanged news. Relena told him of the policies that her legal team was concocting with her, and Milliardo told her that he had been around doing Preventer things, and Relena did not find out more. She knew that it was confidential, and she did not push for further information. They then exchanged concerns about the state of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation.

"That Co-Existence policy that you've presented last week really is something." Milliardo leaned back to his chair and crossed his legs. "It's both a blessing and an eyesore to us Preventers."

Relena frowned. "I figured as much."

"I could tell that you weren't happy about it."

"Was I really that obvious?" Relena smiled. "You obviously can see why this would not promote 'Co-Existence'. Yes, it bans open warfare and it opposes imperialism. That's a blessing, as it would prevent another Allied Force or another OZ from forming. But support national liberation movements?" She shook her head. "That would only cause even more hostilities within that particular nation, and maybe that little hostility could spread globally. I know that not all liberation movements are bad, but some are futile. Some just want to disrupt the peace in order for them to run their own country, break away from their nation in order to shape a new one..."

Milliardo grunted his agreement. They were silent for awhile, each lost in their own thoughts. "That same policy might get us into another war involving Mobile Suits." He finally said, voicing the fears that he and Noin shared ever since they destroyed the factories.

Relena's eyes sharpened, focusing at Milliardo's tired eyes. "What do you mean?" She said slowly, warily.

"Some people believe that the world is more vulnerable without the mobile suits," he answered, and Relena gasped. He looked away, not wanting to see the pain in his sister's eyes.

"You're not saying…" Disbelief rendered her speechless. She closed her eyes, then forced herself to start again. "Why was I not informed that Mobile Suits are in production again?"

"We were unsure of the verity of it ourselves. Forgive me Relena," he looked back at her. "The Preventers have failed."

Relena shook her head. "You have nothing to apologize for brother." She leaned forward. "But please, tell me all you know."

"From what I've heard, these people then perceived to make new models of the mobile suits of the last battle. They had no blueprints of the mobile suits, as these were destroyed three years ago. So they probably employed engineers who worked with the suits during the war. Before any of this could be achieved, they needed support, militaristically and financially speaking…"

"The national liberation forces," Relena muttered incredulously.

Milliardo nodded. "Of course, as you've already figured, the liberation forces would support these productions: It would give them the upper hand in battle. But who could have access to countless of resources to make these suits?"

"I could name Duo and Quatre," Relena kidded, trying to lighten the mood between her and her brother. But when Zechs didn't respond, she grew confused. "Neither would fund a project like this, Zechs. You know that. Both desire peace… there are thousands of companies who could have funded this project."

"When the Preventers… _intercepted_… a factory earlier this week we have found two logos embossed on the weapons." Milliardo said, "Are you aware of the Clover Company?"

An image of a gold, three-leaved clover sprung in Relena's mind. "Yes," she muttered. "The small time company who bought the Metalline Corp. The company who bought it from… from the Winner Corporation."

"Yes," Zechs said. "They've been in a buying spree lately. Apparently they already own the majority of the metals resource businesses in colonies L1, L2, and L3. Couldn't touch L4… the Winner influence is too close for comfort."

"Whose was the other logo by?"

Zechs paused. "Winner Enterprises."

"What?" Relena exclaimed. "That doesn't make sense!"

"No," Zechs shook his head. "It doesn't."

"Has Quatre been informed?"

"The head of the company will obviously deny these claims. It is not his feedback that we seek, but rather his other executives'."

Relena was silent for a few moments, turning this disturbing news around her head. "Will the Gundam pilots be in any way involved?" She finally asked quietly.

Zechs studied her face. "Yes," he replied. He knew as well as Relena that the Gundam pilots working together again and getting involved was a testament to the threat of the issue. It also meant that the person whom she loved most would be in danger once again.

* * *

Heero walked around Charleroi Brussels So Airport waiting for the people to disperse before getting into a cab himself. He didn't want to fight with the tourists just to get a stupid taxi. He wasn't in a hurry to get into one, either. When he deduced that it was less busy, he opened the door to the nearest cab and told the driver where he was headed.

"Hey buddy," said the driver in French, thinking that the man beside him was illiterate in the language as he chewed his gum feverishly. "Get in the cab at the front and don't jump queues, yeah? I got no time for punks like—" He stopped chewing after seeing the flash of anger in those Prussian blue eyes.

"I'm not your buddy, monsieur." Heero muttered. "Drive."

Without further questions, the driver backed out of the taxi queue, earning several angry honks from the other drivers behind. They drove for a couple of miles until they got into the beautiful city of Mons. Tourists cooled themselves with iced tea in cafes while kids frolicked around in the parks. The cab passed by the gothic City Hall, the infamous and cheeky Guard's Monkey looking down from its post in the gates in medieval mischief at Heero. He'd never been to Mons, so he took in every little thing in the landscape as he always did when he visited a new place. He had heard of the Monkey in books, however. It was said that it brought good luck if petted with the left hand…

"We're here, monsieur." The cab driver said, stopping at the curb. "Hope you enjoy your stay here in Mons."

"I won't," Heero muttered as he gave him the money. He got out of the cab. "Thank you."

Heero walked a little further, his destination not being the City Hall. After a few minutes he entered a rustic hotel, going straight to the elevators without glancing at the receptionist.

* * *

"Heero!" Duo waved at him from his seat. He was watching a movie from a massive television. "Wow, that's the whole crew then, minus two, that is."

Heero grunted. "What are the pilots doing here?" He asked Lady Une as Sally turned off the TV. He heard Duo yell in protest and saw Wufei glare at him in warning. Duo glared back.

"What are you looking at, you devil?"

Wufei sniffed. "I'm looking at the village idiot."

Duo raised his eyebrows. "Why, did I offend you in anyway by protesting to Sally here, Fei Fei—"

Heero heard no more as Une steered him away from Duo and Wufei's bickering. They arrived at the kitchen and Une leaned at the counter, placing a stack of folders beside her. "They've been at each other's throat ever since they arrived!"

"Obviously," Heero said. "They could hardly speak to each other when they shared the same cell when they were captured." He suddenly remembered that Lady Une was the one who ordered them to be captured, when she was still working for OZ. He paused.

Lady Une smiled. "Blunt as always, I see." She said. "To business then, since you can hardly contain yourself. In answer to your earlier question, the pilots are called to aid the Preventers."

She then went to tell him about the Basalt Project and the suspicious Clover Company that might be behind it.

"Why us, though?" Heero said. "This could have been handled by the others quite perfectly, by the Preventers even. The pilots have retired from war activities, you know that."

"Yes," the Lady said, obviously surprised that Heero was making no sign of interest with the mission. "But we thought that you guys might be interested in this. It is a pretty big threat, isn't it? Besides, one of your colleagues is suspected of being involved…"

"Two," Heero replied. "Isn't that why Trowa and Quatre aren't here?"

Lady Une shook her head. "Only Trowa… he seems to have disappeared at the beginning of this week. He couldn't have been at a mission, as the Preventers hadn't given him one yet. Quatre sent his apologies earlier, saying that he could not attend today's meeting. He was _willing_ to cooperate, however. He cannot be suspected of being involved in the Basalt Project."

"Just because Trowa is missing doesn't make him a traitor. As for Quatre, even though I seriously doubt that he would involve himself with such things, Clove _did_ used to be under the Winner umbrella of companies. And just because he's willing to cooperate doesn't make him a traitor."

"Pessimistic, aren't you?" Lady Une mumbled. "Well, if you must know we have sufficient evidence that Trowa willingly went with Clove…"

"A pool of blood does not sound willing to me." Heero raised his eyebrows.

"… and Quatre has given me his assurance that he was not in any way involved in the project." The Lady continued, ignoring him. "I trust Quatre. Now, as for you," she looked at Heero squarely, "if you don't want to do your mission, you are free leave and do whatever you please."

"I'm merely pointing out the loopholes in your reasoning." Heero gazed back at her without flinching. "I did not say I didn't want it."

"Well, that settles it, then!" Lady Une handed him one of the folders. She watched Heero scan the papers inside.

"Mission accepted."

"Well, Heero Yuy. I'm glad to have you back."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

The Basalt Project. It was a project to remanufacture the mobile suits based on what a group of MS technicians and engineers who worked on various suits during the War remembered of its designs. Nobody knows when it started exactly, and nobody knows for sure who was behind it all. The Winner family? Clover? The governments? Power-hungry individuals? Money-driven companies?

Trowa didn't know the answers to these questions, but he definitely intended to find out.

He opened his eyes slowly and found himself in a dimly-lit cell. After telling Finch that he would join the company willingly, the bastard who he had pinned to the wall had struck him in the back of the head.

He remembered kneeling to regain his balance, but before he could retaliate, he was struck again repeatedly, until he fell to the floor unconscious with blood flowing from his head. That was the last thing that he remembered.

_Cowards! _He thought angrily. He gingerly touched his forehead, and was surprised that it was cleaned and bandaged. _What games are these fools playing?_

He slowly sat up and immediately felt the world spin. He heard the tiny whizzing sound of a surveillance camera swivelling with his movement. As if on cue, the door was opened and the cell was flooded with harsh, bright light that stung Trowa's eyes. He closed his eyes momentarily, but the man who just entered shook him around and struck his face.

"Ah, that'll teach you to mess with me."

It was the man who he had pinned to the wall in the circus.

Trowa looked at him, his eyes no longer showing detachment, but a disarming anger so frightening that the man took a step backwards. Then realizing that he was the one with a gun and hence the upper-hand, grinned and grasped Trowa's throat tightly with both hands.

"You _will _pay for embarrassing me in front of boss." He grinned at Trowa. "I'll make sure of that. You see my friend; just in the other room are many friends of mine that are just so keen to meet you. I'm sure you've heard of Mr. Cracker, and Mrs. Laughing Gas?"

Of course. They were torturing devices. The Cracker resembled a whip of several braided steel wires. The Laughing Gas was what these bastards called a chilled injection that brought incredible pain from within, without killing the prisoner. When both are used at the same time, most prisoners fold immediately.

"Don't forget to curtsey when you meet them!"

Trowa glanced at him before reaching for the gun that the man had so stupidly left unguarded in his hip. With incredible swiftness he kicked the man, swerved behind him and got his arm tightly around the man's throat, the gun to his temples.

Guards immediately flooded into the tiny cell, shouting for Trowa to throw down his weapon. Trowa, still deeply gulping for air, merely tightened his grip and pressed the gun further. The man he was holding was blubbering once again.

Then, suddenly –

"That's ENOUGH!"

A pock-marked man entered the commotion, calling his men to lower their weapons. Then to Trowa, he merely shrugged and said: "Kill him. He disobeyed orders."

The blubbering idiot looked at him incredulously. "But Boss– Boss Finch!"

"You were told specifically that Trowa was not to be hurt!"

"Sorry boss, but he was…"

"You worthless, snivelling piece of scum! Trowa, do us all a favour and just kill him."

Several of the guards looked at each other and grinned. Trowa, disgusted, pulled the trigger slightly. Then, with a steady aim, pointed the gun at Finch. The guards immediately raised their weapons again.

"What do you want from me?" Trowa asked.

Finch smiled. "I thought it was obvious! You're a pilot, are you not?"

"No."

"Yes, yes! Of course you are. One can't really stop being who they are just because of a change in circumstances. It'll always be there in your heart and soul. Besides, I have a mobile suit that I would like to give you!"

"I don't want it."

Finch feigned incredulity. "But, my dear boy! You have already promised me your allegiance. In the circus, don't you remember?"

"And is this how you treat all your allies?"

"Ah, but the swine you suffocate now was simply disobeying my orders! Is not the bandage enough proof that we all here intend to be friends?"

Trowa expressed nothing.

"But of course," Finch spread his arms in a fatherly gesture when Trowa didn't respond. "You must forgive your current… sleeping quarters. I was unsure of where _your_ allegiance lay, so I had to keep you under constant surveillance. Of course, I still don't know where your allegiance lies…" He looked at Trowa expectantly, and when he didn't answer, said quietly: "Of course, none of us want to shed blood, but should it become necessary…"

Trowa understood. The circus. His family. _Catherine!_

Trowa thought quickly of what he must do. He had to act quickly, cleverly.

He lowered his gun and pushed the man away from him, who swiftly crawled away, escaping death from Trowa's hands for the second time.

"Why am I the only one you approached?" Trowa threw his gun down and raised his arms in surrender.

"My dear boy, put your hands down! You're now a member of the Clover Company. There's no need for this nonsense!" Finch approached him and told his men to leave them alone. Once this was done, Finch dropped his amiable persona and reassumed his steely countenance. "Why, you ask? Because, you are the only one who we know would accept a Clover proposal."

"How low you think of me."

"No, no. You are very much highly esteemed, especially by this man." Finch tapped himself in the chest. "We had in fact found many pilots, but we could not find any of the _Gundam_ pilots that would accept. Pilot 05 was definitely out of the running, being a Preventer and all." He shrugged. "02 was quite against us buying his business, so why bother extending him a hand of friendship? And I'm pretty sure you know why we didn't bother contacting 04, yes?"

Trowa didn't reply.

"That only left us with two pilots: 01 and yourself. But we didn't know where you both had disappeared to. We were about to give up, when somebody tipped us of your whereabouts, apparently by chance, although how we didn't find you sooner I don't really know, with you being such a legendary performer and how such…"

"Who tipped you?" Trowa interrupted.

Finch grinned. "Are you familiar with Une?"

Trowa raised his eyebrows. "The Lady?"

"No, no!" Finch said impatiently. "Of course not. I talk of Midii Une."

The corners of Trowa's eyes twitched at the name. Half remembered, half forgotten. The name stirred something within him.

_Midii? _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

Throwing her calmness and smiles aside, Dorothy locked the door in her room, and an angry grief started welling up in her chest. It had been a week since her rash outburst at the lake. Neither had called the other, and she started wondering if Quatre had already lost all interest in her. But she didn't need anyone's sympathy. No. She has no room for pity. That was why she still presented herself as an icy, intelligent woman who seemed to be incapable of deeper emotions. Only to Quatre did she drop her pretences.

However, no matter how independent she had become since the earliest days of her life, Dorothy knew that her family – or at least her family _name_ – would always hover over her life like a bladed pendulum swinging over her neck. _Catalonia_ and the rest of the nobles who carried the name would never allow her to marry outside the bloodlines. Closed minded, they always were. _Maybe that's why each and every one of us is a little wrong in the head_.

Before, Dorothy had assured them that she would never take a man to be her husband. No, she was too proud of her name for a man to change it so easily! The family naturally approved. Besides, better stay a Catalonia than marry an unknown!

Yet, after she met Quatre, her views somehow changed. Dorothy didn't really know when her feelings for him started. Perhaps it wasn't long after the Eve Wars ended, when she paid him a visit in L4 to apologize.

"Don't make me repeat myself." Dorothy remembered telling him.

Quatre smiled openly. "There's no need to apologize," he had told her. She saw that he was still in pain from the wound she inflicted him, yet he seemed to have already forgotten about their duel. "May I treat you to lunch today, Miss Dorothy?"

Yes, it probably started there. She was taken off guard by his kindness, and even more so by him treating her as an actual person not devoid of emotions. But then one day, all the easiness that came with their relationship came to an end when, upon coming home, she was confronted outside the door by James Willoughby, the son of a baron holding some insignificant piece of land in England. So insignificant, in fact, that Sir Willoughby forced his son James to court Dorothy at once to save themselves from ruin.

James already somehow knew about Dorothy and Quatre, and he threatened to expose them to her family if she declined his hand. She had told him she didn't care, even dared him, as she needed neither the Catalonia blessing nor their fortunes to keep her breathing. James reminded her that once she breaks the tradition, many of the nobles would keep her (and, perhaps, her closest relations) from their society.

"You don't want that, do you Dorothy?" James had asked her.

Dorothy then let her pride and self-honour blind her judgement, which she had regretted since. It blinded her from choosing, because as Quatre said: You always have a choice

Or… wait! Is it James who was right about everything? Should family come first before the heart?

"You don't have to break up with Winner." James had said. "Just pretend you're going out with me and that should satisfy both our families."

"I have no family." Dorothy had said frostily.

Yet she still agreed just so she could protect her name, thinking only of herself. And just as she had inflicted that physical wound that Quatre hid so well five years ago, no doubt she had done it again a mere seven days ago, although this time she was sure she had wounded him much deeper.

No. She was manipulated by James by threatening her. Her anger turned back to him. There was once a time when threats fell empty on Dorothy's ears. "Go ahead, try me" was what she always said. But why was this one so different and difficult? James did not love her after all!

Dorothy slid down from the door and buried her face in her skirt. Not once did her body shake, nor did she utter a cry of anguish. But her tears flowed freely.

No, Dorothy didn't need anybody's sympathy.

_You are made of stronger stuff than this!_ She hissed at herself angrily. _Pull yourself together! The damage has been done; all you can do now is to just make the best of it._

………………………………………………

Quatre was quite alone in a corner of a café, thinking of Clover, of the mobile suit reproduction, and mostly, of Dorothy, when his laptop notified him of a video transmission from the Lady. He immediately answered it. After they had exchanged formalities, Quatre began to apologize for his absence at Mons.

"It's alright, Quatre." Une replied, then immediately getting down to business, told him that she was going to be sending confidential reports and if he could read it immediately. Quatre said that he would be waiting for it. After a pause, Lady Une asked: "Do you know where Trowa is?"

Quatre was silent for awhile, before replying: "I was about to ask you the same question…"

"I'm sorry Quatre." A pause, then: "Are you in a public place?"

"Yes, well I'm alone, but I'm in a café." Quatre replied, surprised. He was about to pick up his laptop to leave the café when the Lady stopped him.

"No, don't worry about it. I'll just include it with the reports I'll be forwarding you. I'll send them to you immediately. Just contact me when you've had any news on the project… and on Trowa."

"Yes, of course."

"Take care, Quatre."

Une paused before ending her video correspondence with Quatre. Trowa had been the greatest mystery to her out of the five Gundam pilots, but she knew that his sense of justice was mostly always correct, albeit a little hard to understand. This time, though, where could he have disappeared to when the Preventers needed him the most?

Quatre's laptop notified him that the reports Une promised had arrived. He didn't open the reports in the café, but instead opened the note that Une had attached. He merely scanned through it, the basic gist being:

_Winner Company has been cleared of all suspicions. ESUN notified._

Quatre breathed a sigh of relief at having avoided another unnecessary public backlash against the Winner family. Then, closing his laptop, he prepared to leave the café. An attractive blonde girl approached to clean his table.

"Thanks. Hope you enjoyed your coffee."

"I did, thank you, uh…" Quatre glanced at her nametag, then lifted his eyes back at her face in surprise, "Thanks, Miss Une--"

………………………………………………

Just a brief note:

You guys might also want to look into the use of familial and economic scapegoats throughout history, if you want to understand Dorothy or James' positions better.

There are many things that would be pivotal to the plot later on that's mentioned in this chapter. I hope you've been paying attention!

Thanks for reading! =) Heero's subplot is coming up very soon.

-Scriptique


	10. Chapter 10

Heero leant in the shadows late one night, silently watching Relena unnoticed and wondering when she would finally finish her work for the day. She had been speaking to a string of ambassadors and leaders in the phone ever since Heero got there, and he had no wish of disturbing Relena. The clock on the wall read 11:53pm, and Relena was still working on her speech, trying to make it eloquent enough to convince the world leaders to support some policies and views.

Finally, she lifted her head and saw a flash of Prussian blue in the balcony. She gasped and immediately stood up, her heart skipping. _Could it be?_

She rushed to the balcony door and threw them open, but upon stepping outside, saw nobody there.

_Heero._

And then she saw a card in the corner, resting on top of a beautiful, square velvet box. Relena opened the card and read Heero's familiar handwriting: _Happy Birthday Relena_. Relena frowned.

_My birthday isn't in 2 months._

And then, Relena understood: _I won't be seeing you again for a long time, would I Heero?_

Relena choked back the sadness threatening to engulf her, but remained calm. She opened the velveteen case and her calmness almost dissolved.

Inside was a brooch with a large stone in the middle. The stone was a deep, midnight blue and sparkled with points of light, making it look like it was a stone carved from the night sky itself! It was of a tear-drop shape, and had small pearls set around the stone. Relena's heart swelled with sadness in understanding its meaning.

"Heero," Relena said to the night. "Why do you have to leave? Why do you need to go back to outer space?" She listened, but only heard the owls barking as the breeze whispered through the trees. She sighed.

"Please be careful!" She whispered.

Underneath, unknown to her, Heero watched her close the balcony door as she walked back into her office.

"I'm sorry." He turned away. "Relena…"

_Happy Birthday._

* * *

Heero went to space. It hasn't been easy getting to space ever since the demise of the mobile suits. These days, he needed to travel _properly_, passport and all. Of course, the identities he provided were all validly _fake_. And he could always take a spacecraft and fly it himself, no problem. But these days, he tried to keep a low profile.

He landed in a colony in L4 and immediately took in his surroundings, remembering where to go exactly. Heero only needed to be in a place once for him to remember it forever. He was, after all, the Perfect Soldier. A soldier no longer, true, but he still tried to retain that habitual _perfect_.

Dodging people, he quickly secured a rental car outside the port and sped off. This wasn't like Mons, where he took his own sweet time. This time he was on a mission.

He parked the car outside the tallest building in the colony and went straight to the elevators. Pressing a floor, he was greeted by a computer telling him to state his name and to provide his fingerprints. Heero obliged, knowing that the computer would accept. The person who he was going to visit would never suspect him as dangerous. In fact, he was probably already waiting for him.

Yes, just as he expected. The computer accepted his identification just as it accepted Duo's a long, long time ago. The lifts started to rise. When the door opened he briskly stepped out into a spacious waiting room. There was only one office room in this floor, and that was the boss'. There were no guards, just a secretary. He approached the secretary and noted her left hand on the computer keyboard. Her right hand was no doubt underneath the table with a gun already aimed at him.

"Are you Mr. Heero Yuy?" The secretary asked, checking a screen in front of her.

Heero made no reply.

"Sir," she started to say, "You must surrender any weapons that you might have before you may enter the…" But before she could finish, she was interrupted by the office door opening. Quatre stepped out, telling her that it wouldn't be necessary. He then invited Heero in.

"I'm glad I went out just in time." Quatre was saying. "You looked like you were about to decline Hester with violence. She's too old for that, you know."

"You're mistaken." Heero said. "I would have obeyed. But then again, I would have had to resort to violence." Heero produced a gun and pointed it at Quatre in a heartbeat. Quatre didn't flinch. He merely looked at Heero in confusion.

"Heero?"

"Tell me about Clover."

"Surely you don't suspect me of funding the Basalt Project!"

"No. But Clover used to be one of your family's companies."

Quatre raised his eyebrow. "No. Clover bought the Metalline Corp., one of our metals and resources corporations, from my great-grandfather a long time ago. They were never a part of Winner Corporation."

"If that is so, why are they going under the Fayez banner?"

Quatre paused. _What? _ This was something that he had not heard of before. Fayez is Arabic for Winner, his surname, and it was also the watermark that Winner Enterprises used on various things. The stamp changed every time a new Winner sat at the head of the company: The Arabic script would remain the same, but the design would be different. So why is Clover using the Fayez stamp? Quatre blinked in confusion.

"Are you sure? Where have you heard this?"

Heero already knew of the Metalline Corp., and he already knew that it was highly unlikely that Quatre was involved in the Basalt Project. But Heero, finally entirely convinced of Quatre's innocence, switched the safety back on and threw the gun to Quatre, who caught it easily.

"Look at the gun and the bullets."

Quatre examined the barrel of the gun and saw, next to Clover's three-leaved logo, a very tiny stamp. But it was unmistakable: It was the Fayez stamp. He opened the bullet case and unloaded a bullet, holding it to the light. There it was again, the Fayez stamp. He looked back at Heero incredulously.

"There was a Clover factory passing off as a production warehouse for defence supplies, in France." Heero murmured.

"And mobile suits…?"

"I delved deeper, and they had another factory underneath. I saw a dozen or so finished suits. That was where I took the gun from."

"Were the mobile suits of any particular model?"

"The majority looked like modified Leos. I saw a couple of Arieses."

"Did you see where the suits were headed off to?"

Heero mentioned a few countries. Quatre looked back at the gun and the bullet and wondered why they hadn't raided the Clover headquarters yet. _It must be the same reason they haven't raided mine._

"My company's their scapegoat." Quatre muttered.

"Why would they want to pass off as your company's affiliate after all the trouble of buying it _from_ you?"

Quatre shook his head. "I don't know. But the Fayez stamp that they are using is not the current one that _we're_ using. It's outdated by a few of generations. If they wanted to be affiliated with us, why didn't they forge a similar one to what we're using now…?"

One of the reports that Lady Une sent Quatre was of the minutes from the Mons meeting. He knew that Duo was sent to Clover's main office to get inside the internal systems. Wufei and Sally Po were sent to other parts of the world to check out the other Clover branches. Trowa was still missing. Zechs and Noin were trying to track down the other hidden mobile suit factories on Earth. Heero and Quatre were to track down the factories in space.

Another of the reports sent was one compiled by Zechs and Noin. It was the report on the mobile suit factory that they had destroyed not too long ago. But if that factory _was _destroyed, and there were already a dozen finished mobile suits in France, then the Preventers _were_ too late, and there must be more suits that have been finished… which meant…

Quatre sat down weakly. "We need something to counter them…"

Heero said nothing. Quatre looked up at him, and Heero saw that they were both thinking the same thing.

"We're going to need to rebuild our Gundams."

"Howard would be able to help you." Heero said.

"Yes, and… I also kept the blueprints for the Gundams. I didn't destroy them just in case something like this happened…"

Heero nodded, grateful for Quatre.

"There's another thing, though." Quatre continued. "You said that the Leos and Arieses looked modified. Perhaps they're more powerful than the ones used during the wars. We'd need to know what these are capable of, so we can modify _our_ Gundams against them."

"The others are all looking into that."

Quatre sighed and massaged his temples. _Why won't this ever end?_

Heero turned to leave. "I'm going to the L3 cluster. I've heard one of the biggest Clover factories is in there."

"Yes. I'll start on the Gundams. But it would take time…"

Heero nodded once in acquiescence, and then walked out of the office. He had promised himself that he would never touch a mobile suit again. They were all in relative peace for years, after all. His blood boiled at the rebels. _Why do I have to kill that little girl again?_

But as he got into the elevator, he couldn't help feeling a surge of excitement mixed in with the detestation. The thought of piloting his Gundam again made his heart race. But then, his thoughts drifted back to Relena, of having to shatter the peace that she had fought so hard to obtain… the peace that she perhaps fought harder than he ever did.

_I'm sorry Relena_. He lowered his head.

Happy Birthday.

…………………………………………

_In war, there are no unwounded soldiers._ ~José Narosky


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11:**

It has been almost three weeks since Hilde saw Duo last. Hilde no longer skipped back to her apartment, but her heart still did every time she thought of him. She hugged her bags of groceries closer to her chest as her thoughts raced. What would she tell Duo? What would she tell her friends? Hell, what is she doing?

She had been feeling and seeing a lot of changes in her boyish body lately. She had always attributed them to everything, grabbing hold of anything besides that one fearful _truth_. But there were several things that she could no longer ignore …

Hilde unlocked the door to her apartment and let herself in. From her experience with the military, she had always been alert to her surroundings. She was now 20, and she never forgot those skills. She immediately noted if there was or had been anybody in the house, and finally satisfied, plopped herself onto the couch with a sigh. She took out five overpriced packets from the piles of groceries that lay scattered in the centre table and went to the bathroom. When she came back out she flicked the packets into the centre table and propped her feet up, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

_There!_

She grabbed all five packets and stared at them.

She hadn't had the rags for nearly two months, and no wonder.

Oh fuck it. She's pregnant.

Her first reaction was bewilderment. Then fear. Then, finally, happiness. She placed her hands over her stomach and felt an excitement rise through her.

_But what about Duo? Would he feel the same?_

She jumped when the phone suddenly rang. She raced to it and stammered a "hello". The voice on the other end completely knocked the bejeezus out of her.

"Oy Hilde! How's it going in there?"

Duo had called Hilde to ask her how things were going since he last spoke to her five days ago. But Hilde didn't respond.

"Hilde? I said how's…"

"I'm fine." Hilde interrupted. She bit her fist and stamped her feet. _Now he's gonna ask what's wrong._

"No you're not fine. What's going on in there?"

Hilde decided to change the topic instead. "Nothing. Now how's it going there in that colony you went to in L3?"

Duo hesitated, before replying that all was good.

_Ha! Now I've caught you!_

"You're not in L3 are you?" Hilde snarled. "Have you run off with another woman?"

"Well you know me, the ladies can't keep their hands off of... hey hey, calm down!" Duo hastily said when Hilde screeched a string of profanities. "I was only kidding! The only woman I saw was Lady Une. I swear!"

Hilde blinked. She heard Duo say, "Oh shit".

"Why did you lie?" Hilde asked quietly.

Duo sighed. "I didn't want you to get worried."

"Worried?!" She took a deep breath and changed tactics again. "When were you planning to tell me you're on Earth?"

"I'm sorry Hilde. But… I'm on a mission right now and I can't talk –"

"I'm pregnant." Hilde interrupted.

She could almost see Duo's jaw dropping.

"What? Are you sure?"

"No, the tests lied to me. Of course I'm sure." Hilde sighed. This was ridiculous.

"How far along do you think?" Duo asked.

"Two months, maybe."

Silence.

"Well?" Hilde asked. "Are you happy?"

"What? Of course we're keeping it!"

"That's not what I asked!" Hilde bit her quivering lip. "I asked if you're happy."

"Of course I am!" Duo exclaimed indignantly. "Why would you even ask a thing like that?" He then said gently, "Hilde, I'm more than happy! I'm ecstatic! I'm euphoric! Over the moon! Seventh heaven, cloud nine..."

"Well then, at least now you don't have to accept any dangerous missions."

"Yes ma'am! Roger that!"

"You're making fun of me!"

"No!"

"You liar!"

"Never lied in my life."

Duo finally got a chuckle out of Hilde.

"Well, has that Clover company been back since I left?"

"Nope. Otherwise they'd have a very cranky housewife in their hands."

"Ah, not even the God of Death would want to be anywhere _near_ a cranky housewife. Why else do you think they all live a long, fruitful life?"

"Duo!"

"But seriously, Hilde. Take care. And wait for me."

Hilde laughed. "Soppy old bat! It doesn't suit you."

"Why, because I'm not Quatre?"

Hilde snorted out a laugh.

"Hilde?"

"Mm?" She was still smiling.

"You knocked me up, now marry me."

Hilde put down the phone, shaking her head, still laughing to herself.

* * *

Duo got out of the phone booth and whooped loudly, earning stares and half-grins from passers-by.

"You seem happy." An old lady kindly said.

"Because I am!"

"Well good for you dear!" She feebly shook his hands. "We'll need more happy people in this world after these guys wipe us all out."

Duo's grin faltered. "I'm sorry, say that again?"

The elderly woman beckoned him to listen closer. "After what that Clover is doing down there… well, let's just say that I don't want to be alive to see another unnecessary war waged."

"Ah," Duo whispered back.

It had been a week since the meeting at Mons. Duo was going to check out the Clover Company's office-base here. Hack into their internal systems. See if he could get any juicy tidbits that he could pass on to the Preventers. Nobody else could do an inside job as undetected as the God of Death, after all.

He made his way to the imposing Clover office blocks and got in without being detected. Once he was inside the office, he started to download their confidential information into his USB. The information on all the factories in the world as well as all their factories in space. He listened for footsteps.

No, he was still alone.

He worked quickly, quietly. Downloaded their contacts. My God, these guys were going to produce more mobile suits not just for the rebels, but also for the countries the rebels were rebelling against. _How could we not have known about this?_ He took out his device and pocketed it safely. Then he walked out of the internal office and made to get out of the building as quickly as he could.

"These guys are worse than OZ, the Alliance, and White Fang put together!" He muttered.

"No," someone said quietly. "Clover is just the middle-man."

Duo immediately turned around for a roundhouse kick, but the guy, anticipating his move, blocked him. Duo gasped.

"Trowa!"

Trowa signalled him to be quiet. "You need to get out of here, and quickly!"

"Yeah, but you need to come with me too! The Preventers need you."

Trowa ignored him. "Go through the fire exit at the other end of this corridor, and then make for the alleyway. They won't be able to find you once you're in the city."

"What?"

Trowa narrowed his hazel eyes and shoved a piece of paper in Duo's hands, before running the other way.

Duo made to follow him, but just then he heard the sound of running feet. Cursing, he sprinted off to the corridor and followed Trowa's directions. He made it to the alleyway, and didn't stop until he was in the middle of the bustling city. He sat down at the edge of a fountain.

It was only there where he opened the note Trowa gave him, and read the disturbing news:

"_100 suits had already been distributed across Europe. Another batch to be distributed to space. Pilots recruited: They have my piloting data. Spies are everywhere._"

Duo stared at the paper, then jumped up and growled in a fit of rage.

"No!" He kicked the fountain edge. "Not again!" He looked up at the sky and swore.

_Will this never end? Will we never live in peace?_

………………………………………………

**AN:** I'm sorry that it took me a long time to upload this chapter. This has been one of the harder chapters to write. I couldn't quite capture Hilde's and Duo's reactions right: It was always either too angry or too sappy, and as I've never been pregnant, I had to rely on second and third hand accounts through Google and King Wiki. So you can see my difficulty in the making of this chapter, hmm? But I'm quite happy with this.

To those who are beginning to hate Hilde just because they want Duo for themselves: Just hang in there. Something's coming… =o

**PS:** I've just finished writing the death scene, and the final chapters of this fic. Now all I've got to do is to write the chapters in-between. But I'm still unsure if I should kill that character… -__-


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

Wufei Chang and Sally Po were driving in top speed through the deserts of western China. Wufei was grateful for Sally's impeccable Mandarin, and her knowledge of the entire country. He didn't exactly like translating anything. So at the moment, he wouldn't trade Sally for anything in the world.

Even if she's no more than a weak woman.

"The factory is about 549 miles along this route." Sally was saying, checking her electronic navigator for their bearings. They were in the part of the Middle Kingdom where no roads marked the way. They were now under the mercy of their gadget's battery life and the satellite's range above them. A storm cloud rolled behind, chasing them with threats of rain and thunder.

"We might need to camp out." Wufei shouted over the roar of the engine. "549 miles is still a long way away."

Sally nodded her agreement. "I know." She looked back at her navigator. "There should be a village about 20 miles west. We can seek shelter there."

Wufei shook his head. "We cannot be seen."

"Don't worry," Sally said. "If anybody asks we're from ESUN's Health and Welfare branch. Besides, there may be some guys left here who I used to work with. A mate needs to catch up too, you know."

Wufei let out a single laugh. "Ok, then, Dr. Po."

"Full speed ahead, Dr. Chang."

………………………………………………

"Sally!" A beefy and slightly awkward-looking man roared.

"Brewer, you old fleabag." Sally shook hands with her old comrade. "How's it all going out here?"

"Well, you know. We get the best views in the backyard."

"It _is_ a nice sunset." Sally smirked into the grey of twilight. It had started to rain lightly.

"So, what can a lowly peasant like me do for a beautiful doctor like you?"

"We're passing through doing all of ESUN's health work." Sally nudged him. "Maybe you can provide us with accommodation just for tonight, and introduce me to your sweetheart?"

"Of course, of course. Anything for you babe. But who's us? You and _your_ sweetheart?" Brewer nodded to Wufei in the car, who narrowed his eyes at him.

Sally laughed. "Don't call him sweetheart." She poked him in the ribs. "Ever." Sally walked to Wufei and told him that they could stay at her old comrade's house for the night. She picked up three heavy bags and swung them over her shoulder. "He can be trusted." She told Wufei when he didn't move. "If you don't trust him, then trust me."

Wufei uncrossed his arms and picked up the last five bags. "Ok. I trust you."

"Thanks." Sally grinned, before she walked off to where Brewer was waiting. Wufei followed silently behind, thinking of Sally's response to Brewer's "sweetheart" assertion. She didn't exactly rebuke Brewer for calling Wufei _her _sweetheart. She twisted it and rebuked him instead for calling Wufei _a_ sweetheart. _Hmm…_

Turning his thoughts back to the present, he assessed his location, noting where the best position was in the village to take cover in the event of an attack. Where the attackers could hide. Where he could best defend. What the village's strengths were. The village's weaknesses…

"So, Dr. Lee, may I offer you a hand. Those bags look heavy." Brewer extended his hand, but Wufei walked on.

"No." Then, as an afterthought: "No thank you."

Brewer looked at Sally, confused. Sally laughed. "At least he said thank you. Dr. Lee is… an unconventional doctor, and he's not very friendly. You might want to lead the way before he makes you."

"Makes me?" Brewer scratched his head. "What kind of partner have you gotten yourself this time?"

…………………………………………………

Brewer provided them with a warm fire as his wife prepared dinner. Their child looked at Wufei shyly. Wufei blinked, not knowing why this child was interested in him. Usually, children feared him: the first feeling he usually gave to anybody, actually

Wufei raised his eyebrows at the child, who then grinned at him, as if to say: "You don't look so scary to me."

Wufei gave him a small, uncertain smile before going to Sally, who was in a private part of the house, trying to contact Lady Une on the video phone to report back on their status. But instead of the Lady, Duo's face wavered on the screen.

"Sally! Oh, Wufei too!" Duo grinned at him widely. "You're still alive, huh? Damn."

"You too." Wufei muttered under his breath.

"Duo, good to see you got back safely!" Sally cut in.

"Oh yeah, so much fun. Got a crapload of info too. I'll send them to you right away. Bumped into Perseus on the way too." _Trowa._

"You found him?!" Sally exclaimed.

"Yeah – well, he found me, actually. But he didn't stay around for a chat… always busy, that one. It turns out that he's clowning for us again… why he didn't bother telling _any_ of us beats me though. Kinda defeats the purpose, you know…"

"Duo," Sally cut in, "Where's Lady Une?"

"The Lady's busy with you know who, discussing tactics, so I'm your boss for today."

"Who's you know who?" Wufei asked.

"Oh, you don't know you know who! Well, you no know you know who, then me know no say you know who." He bent down and whispered: "It's very confidential stuff, ya know?"

Wufei glowered at him, but before he could reply, Duo was unceremoniously shoved aside by none other than the Lady herself.

"Hey! I'm talking here!" Duo protested.

"Yes," Une chided playfully, "Says the guy who could lie convincingly under torture, but folds at once when his girlfriend cross-examines him."

Duo opened his mouth, then closed it again and bowed low. "You are too kind, me lady." He said through gritted teeth.

Sally chuckled. "What's going on in there Duo?"

"I'm going to be a father!" He was all smiles again.

Wufei and Sally looked at each other. "Hilde's pregnant?" Sally gasped.

"Yup."

"Congratulations Duo!"

Lady Une smiled at him. "Yes. It's always good to have a little ray of sunshine to shine through these black, dreary days."

Duo scratched his head. "Man, that's deep. Way deep."

It was just then when Wufei's ears picked up the unmistakeable sound of a breath just outside the walls of the room. His hand immediately crept to the pistol hanging by its holster on his chest. Sally didn't seem to have noticed the noise. He touched her shoulders lightly, before setting off outside without any further explanation. He heard Sally ending the conversation as quickly as discipline would allow…

The heavy rain pounded on his shoulders. He couldn't see anything. But he was sure he heard the sound. He felt no presence, but that didn't mean there was nobody there…

Wufei walked around the small, squat house once. Twice. He looked through the hazy rain.

_Where are you?_

He went back inside, shaking the rain from his eyes.

Sally walked out of the room and took Wufei aside. "What was it?"

"Someone was here." He muttered quietly so that only Sally could hear.

"Did you see who it was?" Sally muttered back.

"No."

Sally lowered her eyes. "It couldn't have been the rebels: They would have started attacking by now." She breathed in. "Spies?"

"It's possible." Wufei looked behind his back. Brewer was playing with his child. "How much do you trust him?"

Sally followed his gaze. "I trust him with my life. But I agree: A threat on his family would have been enough to…" Sally trailed off.

"We need to leave."

"Yes, but we must do it discreetly. We cannot risk anybody's suspicion."

Sally's handheld computer beeped the arrival of the reports Duo had promised them. It was still encrypted, but there was a file that caught her eye. _Factory Data_. Also encrypted. With what Wufei informed her, she didn't trust to open the files here. Anybody would be able to hack into her wireless once the encryption was broken…

"We need to leave now." She murmured.

Wufei glanced behind him again, and was startled to find that Brewer was beckoning them to come. _Damn it_, he thought. _I knew we shouldn't have come here!_

"Wufei," Sally whispered, then went back inside to talk to Brewer. Pretending to cross his arms, Wufei grasped the guns on their holsters and followed her closely.

"I'm pretty sure that by now both of you have suspected that something's up." Brewer muttered. When Sally and Wufei said nothing, he continued: "Both of you must leave now. I'm not part of anything, I'm simply a farmer here. But something happened… spies."

"Spies?" Sally breathed.

"From the company belching out military stuff not far from here. Clover, I think it's called. You know that we're a small town, so our protection comes numero uno. Some people have risen up to take Clover's bait. The warrant was obscure, but basically they told us to report of any stranger coming by this village. 'Strangers can be traitors,' they said."

Sally and Wufei looked at each other.

"Why did you allow us to enter then?" Wufei muttered, calm with the undertones of anger.

"Because you introduced yourselves as Doctors," Brewer continued. "But then, I thought about how some people might get suspicious of that. There are the desperate ones here who would tip Clover off of this, even though you came here in peace."

"This village isn't large," Wufei murmured. "The community's small enough for everyone to know everybody else. Who do you think would be disloyal enough to the community to say that _you're _housing some traitors?"

Brewer bowed his head. "I'm an ex-Alliance soldier. Even though I've been living here for a long time, that's reason enough for people to easily distrust me." He stood up. "You must leave. Now. I don't know what you guys are, if you truly are doctors or something else, but you _must_ leave!"

Wufei nodded slightly as Sally bowed her head.

"You must leave under the pretence that you have been called by the other doctors of your unit in the next province. I'll let the others know where you've gone off to, so as not to make them suspicious of your sudden departure."

Sally clasped his hands. "Thanks buddy."

Brewer broke into a grin. "No sweat babe."

Sally and Wufei dropped their gear into the jeep. But just as they were clear of the house's protection, the ambient silence of rain shattered from the crack of a hundred bullets. Wufei pulled Sally to the ground just as Brewer fell heavily beside them, a wound gaping from his head.

Sally stared at him, frozen momentarily. Swearing about the weakness of women, Wufei dragged her to the jeep, throwing his bags inside, shaking the rain from his eyes as he fired at unseen soldiers.

"Stop!" Sally screeched. "You might kill civilians!"

"It's either us or them!" Wufei roared. He pushed Sally into the car and got in himself, gunning the engine and drove hard. Sparks flew as bullets hit the frame of the car.

Wufei pushed a gun in Sally's hands. "Cover me!" He yelled. He glanced at the rear view mirror and saw another jeep chasing them.

"Bastards!" He yelled. He swerved the jeep and set off on the other direction, hoping to lose them in this rain. He'll need luck to navigate around in the darkness. Driving at 150k's and accelerating in pitch black rain, yeah, he'll definitely need a lot of luck.

Sally turned the GPS on and started instructing him on where to go. Their pursuers soon fell behind them.

_Catch me if you can_. Wufei muttered to himself. He glanced at the mirror and what he saw made his heart stop:

A flash of light from the car, then a fireball racing through the night towards their vehicle.

_Fuck! They have missiles?!_ Wufei took the bag full of weapons and gadgets and jumped out of the car, hauling Sally with him. He landed on his back, embracing Sally to minimize her impact from the ground, and they both bounced off the rocky landscape. Wufei thought his body would break into pieces, but he held on. There was a terrifying sound as the missile exploded in their car. The rain hissed as a heat wave blasted around them…

They finally rolled into a stop. Sally lay sprawled, not sure of what just happened, her whole body bloody and aching. She was still disorientated, and she felt like she was about to die. The car pursuing them drove past towards their wreck of a jeep. They won't be able to see where Sally and Wufei have landed in this storm. At least, not at the moment. At the most they'll assume they died in the car… Sally hauled herself up and glanced down at Wufei not far away from her.

"Wufei," Sally crawled to where he was. "We need to get out of here."

But Wufei only stared blankly up in the rain.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13:**

Trowa could see that the crash simulation that they had just test-navigated through had unsettled the inexperienced pilots a lot.

"Damn, if the suit alarm sets off like that again in real battle I would probably go deaf." One of them complained.

"Was that why you left a steaming pile of shit in the cockpit?" Another shouted over the din.

"Nope, but if you don't shut up I'll make _you_ eat my pile sh…"

Trowa was the last to leave the training room. The pilots were incredibly intimidated by him, even though he never spoke. Perhaps because he was one of the fabled Gundam pilots. Sure, they were a little star struck. Ok, maybe not so little. Maybe _massively_ star struck. But they sure gave him a wide berth whenever he's around.

Well, he's not complaining.

As he was making his way to the gym he passed by Finch's office and heard raised, muffled voices. _An argument_.

Trowa ran back to his room and locked the door. He swept his room for any devices that Finch might have planted, and when he found none, took out a surveillance device and turned it on. He had placed hidden cameras in a few places around Finch's office, one being near the vents. It showed Finch talking to a tall blond woman. Finch seemed calm. Trowa couldn't see the woman's face.

The woman crossed her arms. "… and now that the Preventers know that the Winner family has nothing to do with us and the project, who do you think they're going to put the blame on now?"

"Certainly not us!" Finch exclaimed, a little sarcasm in his voice. "They will never find us out."

The woman snorted. "Don't be so naïve. How much do you trust Barton?"

Finch laughed mirthlessly. "Oh, I can tell him to do anything at all and he'll follow my orders like the dog that he is."

"…how else would they have come to this conclusion then?" The woman said. "You will keep a closer eye on him from now on."

Finch grinned hideously. "Ah, but dearest: You don't get to boss me around."

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, _dearest_."

"Oh? We don't need your funding. We have hundreds out there waiting in line to purchase our suits, and they _will_ pay more than you. In fact," Finch rested his chin on his hands. "You rebels are the ones who shouldn't bite the hand that feeds _you_."

The woman didn't respond, but Trowa could sense her rage.

"Be careful, Finch."

Finch bowed his head in acquiescence, but it was clear that he was unrepentant. "It doesn't matter, either way." He continued. "We're already so far ahead in productions that any action against us from now on would be too late. At this rate that we're going, nothing can hinder us!"

"And the Gundam Pilot?" The woman insisted.

Finch sighed in exasperation. "Trowa was simply another resource who we needed to collect data from, in order to learn more about how to best pilot the suits."

"And you will kill him when you're done with him."

"Whatever we'll do to him, is none of your business." He walked to the door and opened it, inviting her to leave before him. The woman finally turned around to follow her gaze on Finch, allowing Trowa to see her face. Trowa caught his breath.

"None of my business?" The woman's voice grew hard. "Don't forget who we both work for."

"Of course I won't m'lady." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He held his hand outside the door. "After you!"

It was only then when the woman felt like she was being watched that she look up into the vents, feeling the pair of hazel eyes keeping their vigil …

* * *

What disturbed Trowa was the amount of trust Finch was giving him. Every day he would come into his room and do a sweep for bugs via the frequency emitted from his watch. Over the past months he had never detected any. Did Finch really think that he had Trowa under control, leashed through the threat against his circus family?

Trowa lay on his bed and thought of what he must do next. The surveillance gadget was showing Finch doing paperwork back in his office.

It was 16:00. The next training session would be in around an hour's time.

_Winner family has nothing to do with us and the project._

_Trowa was simply another resource who we needed to collect data from, in order to learn more about how to best pilot the suits._

…_any action against us from now on would be too late._

The conversation played through his head, over and over again, until he knew what must be done.

He would continue to spy on Clover, just for the moment. What did he tell Duo before?

_Clover is just the middle man._

That still held true, but Clover had accumulated enough power to stop being a middle man a long time ago. Out of desperation, those who hired Clover – those who fed Clover until it grew fat from their greed –had inadvertently given the company all the power in the world, including their own.

_Clover is not just the middle man anymore. Clover has become a powerful force. So powerful, in fact, that they can bend leaders to their will, if they wish to do so._

Trowa was broken from his reverie by the surveillance device, which broadcasted Finch's phone ringing. Trowa turned the volume up a little.

"… The first batches have been sent to Romania." Finch muttered, so low Trowa barely heard it.

After a pause, Finch continued. "Yes. That would be advisable. Wait for the next batch… 20 - that's correct… A meeting? Ah, I see… Yes, but you do realize that from the recent attacks on our factories, we have increased the price by 15%… Yes, yes, well sucks to be you, live with it, etc etc. Great doing business with you. I do hope the meeting goes well, and I'll talk to you again once we have agreed on the price! Don't tally long, it just might inflate again."

Trowa got the small laptop hidden in his room and typed a short message to Lady Une. He attached the videos before sending it. Suits have already been dispatched to Romania… if he didn't overhear that, how long would it have been before the Preventers found out?

Would it have been, as Finch himself said, too late for action? In fact, is it already too late?

What surprised Trowa more was the presence of Midii here. The same girl who had tipped Finch off of Trowa's whereabouts. The tall blonde woman looked different from the girl in his memory, but Trowa was sure that it was the same Midii Une he met a lifetime ago.

Did she learn nothing from the wars? Has she been so caught up in the protection of her family that she has become a fanatic? Like Dorothy before...

_What's your role in this?_ Trowa thought, slightly angry at her. _What are you doing here?_

* * *

The meeting amongst the rebels started.

Many were of noble blood; the majority were from OZ, dissatisfied of the outcome of the wars. Some were genuine liberation forces seeking to be free of tyrant overlords, but most were simply bankrupt royals who wanted to grab this opportunity to accumulate money and power.

They congregated around a large oak table somewhere in Europe, reminiscent of past OZ meetings and functions. They were to talk about their next tactic, and what to do with Clover after they got what they needed.

And of course, what must be done to the majority of the world leaders who were still backing Relena and her ideals. By the time the rebels unleashed their mobile suits, it would have been too late for the Preventers and ESUN: They would have the bullying power to force the world to its knees.

The only problem was that they didn't have the advantage of surprise anymore. For some reason, the Preventers not only knew that they were manufacturing MS, but also that they were not affiliated with Winner Enterprises.

Now that was problematic. They were counting on that association to get the backing of many of the in-betweens – those who didn't want war but were currently bored with peace. Other people would also have backed them if they were seen to have the blessings of an anti-war company. Their cause would have looked justified. Their cause _was_ justified! But now, this scheme was snatched away from them too.

How frustrating, Relena's ideals and her henchmen!

"You can't eliminate the ideal." One of them said. "But you can eliminate its source. Once you kill the head, the body would stop functioning. "

"ESUN is like a cockroach, though. Even if you take its head off it'll still continue to live on."

"No, if you take the head off they'll die in the end anyway."

One of them smiled. "Then let's get them all closer to their deaths!"

One of the senior leaders stood up and slammed his fist into the table. "We are going about this the _wrong_ way. We will _never_ achieve anything by assassination, but through stealth and speed… ah, gentleman, by being cunning we can succeed! Friedrich-Meinrad, you have received your share of the MS?"

Friedrich-Meinrad nodded.

"And our English friend has received theirs as well?"

The Englishman nodded.

"Does your respective countries' governments suspect of its arrival?"

"They don't even suspect that there will soon be a revolution in Romania!" Friedrich-Meinrad said gleefully.

"Well then sirs!" The senior leader shouted. "As long as nobody knows which countries have rebels within them, we might still have a chance to surprise them all! No country would admit that they have a rebel within their midst even if they find out, for fear of a global backlash."

"Yes," Another stood up. "Each country will suspect the other of housing a rebel, hence the enmity will grow. Gentlemen, if this happens the governments would seek the services of Clover, and Clover will end up naming each and every one of us!"

The room broke into angry protestations and arguments.

A voice rang through the commotion. "Gentlemen, you must not worry about Clover. We can ensure Clover's silence as long as the money keeps flowing." A man stood up from the far end of the table. "The problem doesn't lie on Clover's secrecy. It lies on our speed, of emerging and taking the world while we're still the only ones who _possess mobile suits_."

_While we still have the upper hand_. The phrase was whispered throughout the whole room like a secret in the dark.

The senior crossed his arms and sneered at the man. "And what do you propose we must do now, my Lord Willoughby?"

Willoughby bowed. "Our attack must happen at just the right time. _At just the right time_, as the honourable Duke mentioned, when the tensions between countries are about to reach breaking point. Only then would we not only secure the backing of many people, but also the support of soldiers and the weak countries seeking the protection of the mighty. Believe me, these people would be able to taste the coming of a new power before we even surface."

"What we need is information on when _that_ right time is," Friedrich-Meinrad mused.

A liberation fighter smiled. "That can easily be arranged. I already have spies ready to go at my bidding. If the assembly would allow for this – what was that again? – _cunning behaviour_," he inclined his head at the senior leader. "I shall send them off straight away."

The congregation murmured to themselves. Then a vote was cast.

Outside, a couple of girls played in the sun. A harsh cry of black birds was heard in the distance.

The girls looked up to the sky as the brilliance of the day was momentarily darkened by a murder of crows.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14:**

Mariemaia had a new friend.

Her name was Marianna.

A name that sounded so similar to hers, it was almost interchangeable. Mariemaia was delighted with that.

The daughter of a certain Duke, they met at a small ball that the ESUN had launched in celebration of something or other, Mariemaia could't remember anymore. They both immediately took a liking to each other though!

And, just like any 12 year old girls, they were inseparable.

Wanting only to forget her dark past, Mariemaia saw Marianna as an opportunity for her to heal, for her to live as normal a life as possible. She never anticipated that she would grow so attached to the girl, but there it is.

Lady Une also saw this as a good progress for Mariemaia. She also grew fond of Marianna, even though she didn't like the father much. But she knew better than to scorn a child for the crimes of the parent.

And so it didn't come as much of a surprise to her when Mariemaia asked her if her friend could stay with them, at least until the end of the school semester. Lady Une readily concurred. After all, she was leaving for Australia soon and did not want to leave Mariemaia alone.

And so, on the afternoon before her departure, she happened to look down from her bedroom window onto the gardens where the girls were playing. Hands still clutched to each other, she saw them stop as they looked up to the sky, Mariemaia's intense blue eyes reminding her so much of…

The Lady shook her head. She must stop reminiscing about the past.

* * *

Duo and another preventer, Peter, slipped silently inside an air-base. It was the site of one of the largest shipments of mobile suits that the Preventers have ever known. The Preventers had also received new orders.

_Disable them. Don't destroy them._

It still didn't prepare Duo for the amount of new and upgraded mobile suits that he saw in that hangar. There were Leos, Arieses, Cancers. Some he didn't recognize, but it was enough to send chills down his spine.

"Goddamn…" Duo's partner muttered. "Are there any, like, central computers that would allow us to disable every single MS in the world with just a push of a button?"

Duo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he laid a hand on his partner's shoulders and said: "If there was one, I would gladly let you know. There is, however, a central _computer_ that will allow us to disable the MS in here." He unstrapped a gadget from his belt to locate where the central computers were. "Care to help?"

"Oh, um, of course." Peter mumbled. "I still don't get it though. Why just disable? Why can't we destroy these?"

Duo scanned the hangar. "Because this country is under the protection of the ESUN. Now, we're also ESUN. Put two and two together my friend and you'll get your answer."

"So what? They've clearly broken the law."

"Not really. They've listed this under defence, not offence, so Earth Sphere can't do anything about it."

"Hmm. Well, that's fucked up."

Duo shrugged. "Everything is fucked up." His gadget flashed the location of the computer room

Crouching low to avoid the security cameras, they swiftly crossed the hangar undetected towards the main computer room. Duo connected a small computer onto the lock in order to crack the code. His partner continued to talk.

"And, like, how come we still can't find the factory that manufactures all these suits?"

_We already have_. Duo thought to himself, irritated with his noisy partner. _We just don't care to share it with blabbermouths like you in case you tip the enemy off_. He smiled inwardly. _So this must be how the others feel about me whenever I talk too much in missions!_

"There." Duo muttered as the door opened. But before he could go inside he heard someone chuckle behind him, then the sound of a gun being clocked…

Duo pushed Peter to one side just as a bullet ripped through the space where they were both standing. Duo looked back at where the shot came from, and gasped at what he saw from the dim lights of the hangar.

It was a small girl, maybe 10. Or 12. No older than that. But God she had good aim!

The girl holstered her pistol. "You have been very bad soldiers." She chuckled before wielding an armalite at about the same time that Duo took out his gun. He had it aimed at her before she could lift her weapon at either of them.

"You have a slower speed with a bigger weapon, little girl. That's why I beat you to the punch. Now drop your gun: that's not a toy!"

The little girl giggled. "Slow speed, huh?" She said, "And what makes you think that I was out of aim?" Without warning she lifted her weapon and shot at Duo's gun hand.

The bullet hit Duo's extended arm, forcing him to drop his gun. He roared in pain as his blood spattered everywhere. _Goddamn! She's fast!_ He still had a spare gun in his holster... but he knew that if he made any sudden movement he would be shot at.

So why didn't she shoot him yet?

"Duo!" Peter shouted helplessly as he kept his gun aimed at the little girl. She kept her rifle calmly aimed at Duo.

"The guards are coming!" The girl cocked her head to one side. "Can you hear them running? I can't." She grinned. "But I can smell them."

Duo's blood chilled. "Shoot her!" He shouted.

"All men smell the same." The girl continued. "They smell of rot."

"Shoot her godammit!"

"But... but she's just a child!" Peter gasped.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." The girl said. "You shouldn't underestimate us just because we're children."

With astonishing speed she aimed the weapon at Peter and shot him clean in the heart. At the same time, Duo dove for cover and took his spare gun out with his right arm, dropping the gun again as he lost mobility from his injury. He took the weapon in his left hand instead.

"Hey, Duo," the girl whispered. "I'll meet you outside for a fair fight. The guards are coming... you don't want me to win by default now, do you?"

Duo heard the pitter-patter of running feet. He cautiously peeked out from behind his cover, and saw a deserted hangar. Peter's corpse was exposed in the harsh light. Not long after, he heard a different, heavier set of footsteps coming towards them.

Swearing, he went to his fallen comrade and picked him up, setting him across his shoulders. The hangar was suddenly echoing with loud shouts. And then a couple of bullets hit dangerously close to Duo.

Still bleeding profusely, Duo ran to a nearby mobile suit and jumped up to the cockpit door, looking around for the emergency entry to the cockpit. Finding it, he started to punch in the code that Trowa revealed would open the door of any of the standard, out-of-the-box mobile suits, hoping against hope that they haven't changed the password yet…

The door opened.

_Thank God for Trowa!_

_And thank God for these guys' stupidity!_

Another bullet hit his dead partner. Duo shoved him inside and jumped in, quickly starting the mobile suit even before the cockpit door closed fully.

The familiar rumble of the machine gave Duo goosebumps. He hated to admit it, but it felt rather good to be inside a mobile suit again. He was surprised at the certain improvements in the suit, but to his delight the basic steering, clutches, and buttons were still where the old ones were.

And it was still far inferior to his Gundam.

Ah, he missed his Gundam most of all!

He blasted a hole through a wall as the soldiers firing at him started to scatter out of the sudden blast of singeing heat. He barged through the hole and, once outside, started to warm up the boosters. He saw movement in the screen and, zooming in, saw the creepy little girl waving at him and mouthing two words.

_Good move._

He looked on with disgust. _Who would be so twisted as to train innocent children in assassination and war?_

He hesitated, realizing that he was at the same situation as her when he was not much older. He _was _a child of war. So were the other pilots, especially Heero.

He blasted off from the ground and to the sky, intending to fly as far away from that place as possible.

_Mission failed._

ESUN was going to kill him.

And the Lady was going to eat his brains for breakfast tomorrow. No doubt she'll be am angry zombie after she hears about this…

But he didn't care as darker thoughts started to gather in his mind.

The mobile suits.

The recruitment of children for war.

It was like Operation Meteor all over again.

* * *

Mariemaia started from her sleep. She had been dreaming of a past, of a mission that never was, but the ghostly strands of the dream started to unravel quickly as her consciousness returned. Stretching, she turned on the lights and looked at the clock.

4:30.

Hmm, 4:30? Knowing that she won't be able to sleep again, she got up and started to look for her laptop, then remembered that she had brought it in the Lady's office that afternoon. Perhaps it's still there.

She got into her wheelchair and went past Marianna's room, not wanting to wake her. Down the elevators and into the office. It was always kept locked, but the Lady had given her a copy of the digital key. For reasons still unknown to Mariemaia (and which still confused her) the Lady somehow trusted her with the confidential files stored in the computer inside that room.

Mariemaia pressed the small device in her keychain that would give her the proper numbers to access the room. Once the door was opened, the code would randomly change again every minute. Almost hard to crack, only the lady and she had the devices to enter the room.

So why did something feel wrong?

Mariemaia closed the door behind her and scanned the room. The computer. The bookcase. The filing cabinet. Everything looked the same as when she had left the room that afternoon. But something _felt_ out of place.

_What is it?_ She hissed to herself.

Spotting her laptop next to the computer, she wheeled herself towards the desk to collect it when she stopped.

The computer.

Or rather, the graphics tablet. Mariemaia liked straight lines, and was a little obsessed about always wanting everything perfectly straight. The Lady teased her often about it, but it was a habit that never left, instilled inside by her militaristic grandfather.

Which was why whenever she was the last to use the tablet, she would make sure that it was properly aligned to the table, perfectly parallel to the edge with the stylus pen stuck on the third hole.

The pen was on the right hole. The tablet wasn't aligned properly though.

Who could it have been though? It was only she who had access to the room as the Lady had been gone for over a week now. Mariemaia paled at the thought of someone being inside the house, being inside _this very room_! How did they get here? What did they find?

Mariemaia didn't want to believe it.

But she had an inkling of who it might be.

Gathering courage, she went out of the room and up the lifts.

It can't be.

It could be.

She had to find out.

She stopped, took a deep breath, and knocked at Marianna's door.

No answer. She knocked again.

"Marianna?" She called.

When there was still no response, Mariemaia took out her master key and unlocked the door. Opening it a fraction, she peeked inside before throwing the door open and punching the lights on.

The room was empty. It was as if the girl never stayed there at all! Mariemaia called for one of the maids, willing herself to breathe normally, too think clearly, to act rationally. When the maid arrived, she demanded where her guest went.

"She left in the middle of the night, ma'am." The maid produced a letter. "With her deepest and most sincere apologies. She left you a letter."

Fury swept Mariemaia as she snatched the letter. "Why was I not informed of this?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Mariemaia, but the lady Marianna instructed us to just let you know in the morning, when you've woken up. She left in a hurry, as she was sent a car by her father and was told to quickly pack her things and leave."

Suspicion gave way to fear for her friend. "She was my guest, you understand?" She could barely keep her voice level. "Should anything happen to her without my knowledge it is my head, and The Lady's, on the chopping block. Next time you _will_ let me know of everything."

She dismissed her, knowing that she couldn't get mad at the maid for following Marianna's orders. She opened the letter and found the same story that the maid told her. Mariemaia immediately knew that the maid had read the contents of that letter, and her quiet fury grew before her suspicions bit back.

She took a deep breath and went to the window. It was 5:00 and the sky was just beginning to brighten.

_Why did it have to be Marianna?_


End file.
